"Good afternoon, Thomas," Conrad says as he walks to an empty table sitting in a pavilion not a football field away from a run down park crowded with grubby looking kids. "I know you hate it when I eat with you, but I can only find time to visit during lunch."

Conrad sits down, seeming to all the world like he's speaking to someone over the phone, but it seems odd. He isn't wearing any headphones, and he certainly isn't holding his phone up to his ear. Many would say that Conrad isn't right in the head.

"I know I said the same thing yesterday, but it's true!" Conrad says earnestly, leaning over the table as he unwraps a burger he pulled from a paper bag labeled Big Boy Burgers. It's common knowledge that they have the best burgers in town. If you don't mind a heart attack or two.

"I know, this new job is kicking my ass. Sorry, I know. I'll watch my language." Conrad takes a big bite of the partially unwrapped burger, the paper crinkling and the bacon crunching between the two thick patties. "Of course I didn't used to swear, I was a little kid. We grow up a bit, swear at the world, then grow up and realize that the world doesn't care. At least that's how Dennis put it. You know, he was quite the philosopher, even wrote a bunch of books," Conrad says after a long moment of chewing.

A short pause occurs as Conrad takes smaller bite and chews before he says "I guess he still is, but it isn't quite the same now, you know?"

"Not really, just work. You know how it is, wire this, strip that. Although, things have progressed quite a bit from when you did it."

"Well yeah, even if you weren't the one to invent it you were still a smart guy who knew what he was doing. You even got most of the credit. I'm sure you know that though. I bet you got a real big head when you saw that," Conrad says, smirking slightly as he finished the last bite of his burger, pulling a napkin from the bag and wiping off his fingers and mouth.

Conrad's mouth suddenly turned down into a frown, his hands waving and his head turning side to side as he quickly swallowed his bite. "It's just an expression. You know, slang or something. It means you got a big ego, or you got very prideful."

"It's just how people talk now, I don't control that." Conrad says, pulling a small package of fries from the bag and turning the bag upside down over the small package to get the remaining fries. Conrad reaches his fingers into the small container fish the small ketchup package that had fallen into the fry cup as he says "Yeah, but I was raised that way, it's not that easy to just ignore. It took you forever just for me to understand you."

"Whatever man, you just don't want to admit you can't figure it out." Conrad accuses as he pulls open the ketchup packet and dips a few fries in the opening, quickly jamming the deep fried potato coved in blood red sauce into his mouth with a coy smile.

He finishes the fries, nodding every once in a while as he does so as if showing a nonexistent person that yes, he is still paying attention.

Conrad finishes his fries, tossing the trash back in the paper bag covered in still wet grease, wiping his hands on the remaining napkins before they too went into the bag. "Oh come on, I'm sure I've got some time. You folks loose all sense of time after a few years, I-" Conrad checks his watch, panic bleeding into his expression. "Shit, I'm gonna be late. Thanks for talking with me Thomas!"

Conrad got up and walked briskly away from the table, taking the bag and jamming it into an already overflowing trash can on the way to the parking lot. He climbs into his car, quickly rolling down the windows, cranking quickly on the drivers side before reaching over and cranking the passenger side window until it's all the way down. The AC in the car is broken, so it's almost unbearable to drive without the windows down.

The good news is, the radio is working perfectly, even if it is a little old. As soon as the key turns the radio pops to life, an EDM song that Conrad hasn't heard of spilling out of the device. "I need a new car. Maybe after I get my bonus," he says, shifting the car into reverse and pulling out of the parking spot.

Conrad races down the highway at his cars top speed, which is only five over the speed limit. He may be an electrician, but more of the job is planning and paperwork than most, including college Conrad, expected. He took an exit, quickly slowing down as he came to a red light, waiting impatiently for the cars to pass by him and the light to turn green.

The light changes, Conrad racing down the street and walking back into the building at one fifteen. He's not too late, so Conrad clocks in and walks over to his office. "Hey Steve, hair lookin' extra spiky today," Conrad says to the wall as he walks by. His coworkers jeer and laugh, but even they admit how good he is at his job. Some even believe him when he says he's had personal tutoring sessions from ancient masters in the fields he studied.

None of that matters to Conrad. He does admit, at least to himself, that it used to bother him, how no one would believe him. It took him years to finally just accept it as a kind of freedom. A crazy man could say or do whatever he wanted without question, as long as nothing he did was more than slightly disconcerting, he doesn't see a problem.

Closing his door allows Conrad a quiet moment where he breathes in slowly and then out before logging into his computer to pull up the blueprints to another house he has to wire. He wishes again that these could be more useful than "that's where that should be but most likely not", but that's construction for you.

"They have to deal with just as many if not more problems than you do," Conrad tells himself, trying to suffocate the frustration he feels rising through his abdomen. "Construction is not the enemy. It's just an expression Steve, there is no enemy. Come on man, you're not that old."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Conrad shakes his head, turning back to the computer and doing what planning he can for this home while still remaining flexible enough to deal with. . . Interesting workarounds is a good way to put it. It was a delicate balance to make it work in design and being able to adapt to the odd conditions on site without scrapping the whole thing. There were situations where scrapping was the only option, but it was best to try and stick to the plan.

Conrad did little more than plan and chat with the air during the rest of his long shift. He wasn't due on site until after the weekend, although, as his uncle always said, "salary is just slavery spelt wrong". Blue collar workers all have their sayings, but Conrad felt that one on a personal level.

Conrad finished his work, often asking the air for a second opinion before saving the file and closing it out. Conrad leaves his office to see that everyone else had already left. "Damn, that took longer than I thought it did." he says, breaking the pervasive silence. It looked like everyone had turned the lights off as well, as if they forgot he was working. "Heh, 'time flies when you're in hell', that's a new one."

It's not the first time it had happened, and he's sure it wont be the last, but it's a sort of disrespect he's not used to. Conrad clocks out and leaves, stumbling through the dark hallways to the glass front doors. It's weird that they make employees clock in and out since it doesn't effect pay, but Conrad clearly needs the money.

"Alright, bye Steve, I'll be back Monday." The dark empty hallway sits in silence in response as Conrad walks out, locking the door behind him. He clicks the fob on his keys twice, his headlights flashing as he approached. After working his arms by rolling down the windows and turning the key, the EDM station blaring to life again, Conrad pulls out of the parking lot.

Pulling up to the apartment building and parking his car before opening the door and locking his car as he made his way to the stairs. "Hey, do you know if my roommates are still up? I don't want to be too loud if they're sleeping," Conrad says aloud to the empty ground floor. After a moment of silence Conrad says "I Alright, I'll be quiet. Not quite like our college days anymore, it's barely past ten." The remark echoes lightly in the large space as Conrad walks to the wall of small lockers to check for mail. Junk mail, junk mail, bill, not a fan of that, junk mail.

"Have a nice night, Gertrude!" Conrad says as he tucks the envelopes under an arm and starts his trek up the stairs. The elevator works, but Conrad almost never used it. It wasn't worth it to only go up two flights. Conrad turns the key in number two twenty two, pushing the door open with a jiggle.

After a quiet shower and peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Conrad went to bed, trying not to make enough noise to wake either of his cohabitants. Exhaustion from a long day at work made it a simple task. At least he could sleep in the next day. He put his phone on silent, if they wanted him to work they could at least wait until he woke up.

Crash!

Conrad is jarred awake by a loud crashing sound, like glass shattering inside an echo chamber. "The fuck is that?" Jack yells from the hallway.

"Seriously, I'm trying to sleep," Conrad says as he rolls out of bed, wearing only basketball shorts. He throws on a t-shirt and stepping out. "What's going on?" Conrad looked around not knowing what to look for. No one was in the kitchen, and nothing seemed broken in there. Jack was in the hallway between our rooms.

"I think it came from Kaylyn's room," Jack says as he moves to rap his knuckles on the wood. "Hey, Kaylyn? Is everything alright in there?" Only silence comes from the other side of the door.

"There's no way that didn't wake her up, she's the lightest sleeper in the house. Something's wrong," Conrad says, looking around. He doesn't seem to like he sees. "There aren't any ghosts nearby either. They usually tend to wander the apartment around breakfast time."

"Damnit Conrad! It's not the time for your bullshit! She could be dead in there!" Jack yells, slamming his shoulder into the locked door. None of us had a key and Jack wasn't having it.

"Jack! Come on, you're overreacting! She could have left already and a glass fell or something, just calm down!"

Jack paused, breathing deeply. "Yeah, yeah you're probably right." Jack wiped the chipped paint off his shoulder, letting the white flakes drift to the ground.

Conrad doesn't believe it, but knocking down a door seems a bit hasty. "It's alright, we all know how hot-headed you are in the mornings." Jack, currently a graphic designer, played football in college and it showed. That one shoulder into the door almost snapped the thing in half. "Why don't you make us breakfast, something special for when Kaylyn comes back."

"Make me cook your food, entitled bitch." It's clear that Jack was joking, trying to lighten the mood with insults, even though they were both clearly rattled.

"It's so weird, if we just knew what made that noise we wouldn't be so uneasy, I'm sure of it." Conrad mutters to himself. It's an odd feeling, knowing that something simple shouldn't rattle a pair of full grown adults, but it does anyways. The unknown can make anything terrifying in the moment. "Kaylyn, we're making breakfast for when you. . ." Conrad started before trailing off. Most of the apartment was laminate, but the bedrooms had carpet.

And the carpet poking out from under Kaylyn's door is starting to turn a deep shade of red as Conrad watches.

"Oh fuck no," Conrad says. Instead of trying to body the door open like Jack, Conrad tries to kick the door open like the cops did in the movies. He missed the first time, just making a loud banging sound. The second kick landed right next to the door knob, producing a loud cracking sound as the door pushes open about a foot before coming to a halt against something solid.

That foot is all Conrad needs to scream "Call the fucking cops!" Jack had run over to see Conrad standing in front of a door standing slightly ajar, blood clearly visible pooling on the floor and sprayed across the single visible wall, painting a macabre series of lines and dots that almost looked like modern art.

Kaylyn was dead, brutally murdered, and Conrad couldn't shut up about there being no ghost. "Conrad, pull it together! The cops are on the way and they won't be as kind is I am about your ghost bullshit!" Jack screams at Conrad, shaking his shoulders.

"I know the cops won't believe me, and I know you don't fucking believe me, but something is worse than just a regular murder, there's no ghost, Jack! Whatever the fuck did this destroyed her soul!"

"Conrad Keller stop! I get it, your as fucked up as I am about this, but you need to just be normal! Someone broke in and killed her, and you have to talk to the police to help catch the bastard! You can't fall into these dumb ass delusions of yours or they'll lock you up and not the sick bastard that did this, so just SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!" Jack shouted, getting in Conrad's face, spittle flying into his eyes.

"Fine, I fucking get it man," Conrad says back, seeming more calm but inside he's more broken up than Jack is. "I'll deal with that part myself, the cops don't even have to know, and you know what? Neither do you, I can handle this myself."

"Fine, chase your ghosts if you have to, just leave me and the cops out of it so we can catch the person that really did this."

Conrad looks up and sees the blood starting to form a small river as it reached the laminate flooring. Conrad feels resolve forming in his stomach.

"Something isn't right here, and I'm gonna fix it," he says quietly to himself. "Or at least make sure it never happens again."